shied away from admitting why she found the idea of Zachary in danger so disturbing. Shied away from facing that truth. Even to herself.
She should hate Zachary Black. For having imprisoned her here. For disbelieving the things she had told him about André, as well as Napoleon’s plans to leave Elba. Most certainly for the liberties he had taken with her this morning.
And yet she found she could not bring herself to hate Zachary. Certainly not enough to wish him ill. To wish him dead.
Surely she had not come to care for him this past day or so? To feel something, some nameless, softening of emotion, for the very man she had run away from marrying in the first place?
What other explanation was there for her response to him such a short time ago?
It would be worse than ironic if that should be the case.
‘What are you thinking about so intently?’
Georgianna spun sharply to face the man standing in the doorway of the bedchamber. The same gentleman, who now occupied so much of her thoughts.
Her face was instantly ablaze with embarrassed colour, as she found her gaze drawn to those beautifully sculptured lips. Lips, that such a short time ago, had been kissing and suckling her intimately.
‘I was merely wondering exactly when you intended leaving for France, so that I might know when I will, most thankfully, be relieved of your company,’ she replied tartly, her gaze now meeting his boldly.
Zachary gave a slow and mocking smile at that now-familiar sharpness; ridiculous of him to have expected that their earlier intimacies might have in any way softened Georgianna’s feelings towards him.
The fact that she had once again dressed in the unbecoming black gown in his absence was evidence enough, surely, that she regretted those intimacies?
At the same time as Zachary acknowledged he now had no choice but to believe that the information Georgianna had given him about Napoleon’s movements was, in fact, the truth.
As had been her claim not to have seen Rousseau for many months?
The intelligence report that Zachary had read on Rousseau would seem to indicate that also was true.
Which, taken to its logical conclusion, must also mean that Georgianna had indeed parted from Rousseau only a week or so after arriving in France, and that she had then worked on a farm for several months, before going to back to Paris to work as a kitchen maid in Helene Rousseau’s tavern.
Zachary found himself scowling at the thought of this beautiful young woman wandering alone about the French countryside, let alone returning to Paris to work in such a lowly tavern as the Fleur de Lis, leaving herself prey to any and all of that inn’s patrons.
‘Never mind my own plans for now, what on earth did you think you were doing by remaining in France once Rousseau had finished with you, and so putting yourself in danger for so many months?’ He scowled his displeasure.
Oh, yes, André had certainly finished with her, she reflected bitterly. Indeed, as far as she was aware he still believed he had finished her off completely and that her stripped and bleached bones now lay scattered about a forest outside Paris.
She gave an uninterested shrug. ‘Why not stay, when I had nothing to return to in England?’
‘Your father was still alive then, and your brother...’
‘A father and a brother who had quite rightly disowned me,’ she responded tautly.
The duke scowled.
‘Why did the Duke of Wolfingham need to speak with you so urgently?’ she prompted shrewdly.
Zachary raised dark brows. ‘I do not recall Hinds indicating that Wolfingham’s visit was urgent in nature.’
‘I assumed, from the haste with which you left earlier... Silly me.’ Georgianna gave a discomforted grimace. ‘No doubt the urgency was for you to leave my bedchamber, rather than your need to rush to Wolfingham.’
‘And yet here I am, back again,’ he drawled.
‘Only because you had not finished our earlier conversation, I am sure.’ Georgianna turned away to walk over to one of the windows. ‘You cannot seriously intend to leave me a prisoner here whilst you go to France?’
‘I do not believe I have ever confirmed my intention of going to France.’
‘But we both know that you are.’ Georgianna glanced back at him as he did not deny it a second time. ‘And you would have admitted it was so earlier if we had not been...’ Her face flushed fiery red as she remembered the reason for their earlier distraction.
‘No, I would not, Georgianna, and for the simple reason I do not consider my immediate plans to be any of your concern,’ Zachary bit out harshly.
Georgianna recoiled at the disdain underlying his dismissal. It was as if he had physically struck her. As if, despite everything, Zachary still distrusted her.
She turned stiffly to face him. ‘Nevertheless, you cannot expect me to continue to remain here whilst you are away.’
‘And yet that is exactly what I expect.’ Hawksmere eyed her challengingly.
‘And if I should choose to make my presence here a difficult one?’
‘Then do so by all means. It will make no difference to the outcome.’ Zachary was no happier than Georgianna about the arrangement, and as such, his patience had worn beyond thin on the subject.
She raised haughty brows. ‘You may be lord and master of all you survey in your own world, Zachary, but I assure you, you are not my lord or master, in this world or any other.’
No, because if he were, Zachary would have put her over his knee by now and spanked her obstinate little bottom into obedience. As it was, he was so angry with her, not just for her stubbornness now, but because he now knew she had deliberately placed herself in danger these past months. So angry that he might still be driven to that action, if Georgianna didn’t cease arguing with him at every turn.
Not that he had really expected their earlier intimacy to have changed that stubbornness in any way. Georgianna had shown him only too clearly that this wilfulness was part and parcel of who she was. Or, at least, who she had become.
No doubt those weeks and months she had spent alone in France, fearing for her safety, for her life, were in part responsible for her present independence of nature.
The truth was, after the information Zachary had received this morning, he now believed the things Georgianna had told him about the time she had spent in France. And knowing that she had wilfully chosen to put herself in harm’s way by working at the tavern of Helene Rousseau was enough to turn the blood cold in Zachary’s veins. Anything might have happened to her; a young and beautiful woman, so obviously alone and without male protection.
As perhaps anything had?
His eyes narrowed. ‘Where did you live while working in the kitchen of Helene Rousseau’s tavern?’
Georgianna eyed Hawksmere warily as she
